Lost in You
by UniqueElla
Summary: Reality is ugly. Cruel. It constantly brings them down and they struggle to climb up the slippery ladder of misfortunes and survive. In a world of pain and countless family issues, somehow they manage to find an escape in each other. With the help of a nosy brother, an internet platform for posting stories and Dawn's love for reading. Ikarishipping, AU.
1. Of Boring Beginnings

_**I'll keep it short: new story, AU, ikarishipping, I don't own Pokémon. Enjoy!**_

_**Chapter 1 - Of Boring Beginnings**_

"You remember that favor you owe me?"

Paul looked up from his book to see his brother smirking at him. If the devilish glint in his eyes was any indication, what was to follow couldn't be good.

He coughed and tried to weave some nonchalance in his voice. "I don't remember such a thing."

Reggie grinned slyly. Oh, no. "So you're saying I should leave cousin Eileen to gush all over you on the next family reunion, which is, if I dare remind you, just next week?"

Paul sighed, knowing his brother wasn't kidding one bit. He'd really leave him to deal with the hectic girl all on his own this time if he didn't oblige with whatever thing he wanted him to do.

"What do you want?" He asked with exasperation, closing his eyes and hoping to the stars that what his brother had planned for him wasn't as completely idiotic and bothersome as usual.

The things Reggie ordinarily asked of him were out of pure concern for his own well-being, but the older brother skillfully managed to mask them all as tedious tasks and blackmailed Paul into complying into what he thought to be best for him. Usually, they were simple-sounding ones, but irritating and completely pointless in Paul's opinion, like being more sociable or wearing more than one color (which was, without exceptions, black).

Sensing that Reggie did all those things out of concern and annoying brotherly love, Paul usually caved in and as a plus, got protection from his crazed over-affectionate cousin in return. The teenager shuddered at the thought of Eileen. She had gone so bonkers over him in the past two years that she attacked him in ferocious hugs every time she saw him, in a terrifying mixture of an overly-excited fangirl with uncontrollable hormones, and an old aunt, who'd just seen her favorite nephew and had the irresistible need to pinch the hell out of his cheeks.

However, as much as the girl terrified him, the evil grin that Reggie currently had on his face made him wonder if putting himself through his still unknown wicked scheme was worth another Eileen-free family reunion.

The grin widened and Paul almost felt the urge to wince. It was against his nature to show any weakness, so he forced himself to keep on a poker face, while in reality Reggie's behavior was beginning to really scare him.

"I made an appointment at a therapist's office."

There, it was out.

Paul almost did a double take. "You did what?" He sputtered out disbelievingly.

"I made an appointment at a therapist's office." Reggie repeated infuriatingly calmly.

Paul tried really hard not to hit him as he paraphrased his question through gritted teeth. "What. For."

"For you, dear brother. The favor I'm asking of you entails you attending said session."

"No way in hell." Paul spit out with disdain. He'd rather spend the following three years with Eileen clutching his arm than visiting a fucking psychiatrist.

"Don't dismiss my offer in such a chop-chop way. This isn't the kind of therapist you're thinking about, he's much more of a counselor than anything else that might have crossed your mind."

"That doesn't make me want to see him any better. You're the one with the mental issues, make good on your precious appointment yourself."

Reggie sighed tiredly and rubbed his temples. "Paul, you don't understand. I don't think there's something wrong with you or your head, I just want you to talk to somebody and seeing as talking to friends isn't an option, I went for the closest thing to it."

"I'm not. Going. To a therapist." Paul pronounced each bit clearly and sharply in hopes of getting it through his brother's thick skull.

Reggie laughed dryly. He certainly wasn't one to take a hint. "Of course you are, little bro. Now, you better get ready, you have to be there at four." With a tone of finality and smugness, he returned his attention back to the magazine about freaking _knitting_ that lay in his lap, leaving an unimpressed Paul to glare at him. He could swear, nothing in an apron was supposed to be this malicious.

"I told you I'm not going." The younger brother redirected his attention to his own reading mater rather demonstratively.

Reggie just smirked, but didn't answer. Paul narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not expecting his brother to drop his demands so easily. His smirk, in particular, was what gave him away and made the teenager stand on his guard. There was some sort of trap prepared for him, he was sure of it.

"What are you boys entertaining yourselves with?"

Paul's eyes widened with sudden realization as his mother made her entrance in the living room, smiling warmly at her sons. Reggie looked up from the magazine and gave his brother an evil smirk, confirming his suspicions.

_Don't you dare. _Paul stared at his brother threateningly, but the annoying smirk didn't leave the elder's face as he opened his mouth.

"Actually," Reggie spoke with barely-concealed self-satisfaction in his voice. "Paul and I are just getting ready to go out. We're going to a counselor to work on his communicative skills."

"Ah!" The woman clasped her hands together. "What a wonderful idea!"

Reggie gave Paul a self-righteous grin and the younger sibling knew he had been had. There was no way for him to oppose the idea now that his mother had been introduced to it and had, apparently, liked the shit out of it.

_A dirty card to play, Reggie. _Paul glared at his brother one more time and got up to get ready for the now inevitable visit to the therapist's office. On his way out of the living room, he stopped to give his mother a hug.

"Are you feeling fine?" He inquired, letting a little of his concern seep in his voice. His mother smiled at him as she pulled back.

"You don't have to worry about me, Paul. I've been doing a lot better." He didn't believe her. Not by a long shot. She was still in the dressing gown she hadn't changed out of for days, her hair was disheveled and unwashed, her face gave away continuous nights of sleep deprivation – bags under the eyes, greyish skin, tired gaze.

If that was what 'doing better' looked like, Paul didn't like it one bit. He decided not to confront his mother though, sensing that she wouldn't be able to hold it together anymore and might have another breakdown. Instead, he managed to give her a crooked smile, wondering what he could do to keep her from slipping back into her depression. He really didn't know what to do to help her, so tried to at least fulfil all of her wishes, even if it meant he had to carry out his brother's crazy schemes.

The woman smiled back and lifted her skinny arm to ruffle his hair with affection. "I know you don't like it, but this visit to the counselor might prove to be really beneficial for you, Paul."

"I know, mom." He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before making his way out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Reggie looked after him with a smile. Seeing that he would really do anything for the sake of their spent mother, he almost felt bad for using it against him. But it was for Paul's own good, after all.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Paul found himself staring at his laptop's screen at a loss for what to do. The blank Word document he had opened stared right back at him mockingly as his fingers grazed over the keyboard aimlessly.<p>

_"I choose to keep my distance from people, but that doesn't mean I have a disorder. It's my choice."_

_"Ah, I see."_ Paul remembered how Dr. Palmer had leaned back to the comfort of his armchair and had pressed his fingers together in a contemplative pose. _"Well, young man, if you're truly completely fine with your life the way it is, I'm not sure you need my consultation."_

Paul had turned to leave at that point but had been stopped by the voice of the therapist.

"_Though you're assigned the whole session, Paul. It'd be a pity if we didn't utilize the time."_

He had thought that it was a tremendous waste of time, but he hadn't said anything, so the counselor had continued.

_"If you're not keen on engaging in human contact, you should find another way to express your thoughts. Keeping things pent up underneath the surface isn't good."_

Dr. Palmer's voice echoed through his mind and he couldn't help the defeated sigh that escaped his lips. What was he supposed to do now? Keep a fucking journal?

"_I know you've already made your position clear on this, but I'd like to ask you nevertheless. I get that you're fine on your own, but aren't there times when you just wish to share some of your thoughts with somebody?"_

Paul snorted derisively upon remembering that particular question. _Blasphemy._

_"Aren't there times, when you feel like you're missing out on something that can actually turn out to be great?"_

Paul had sighed exasperatedly. _"No, there aren't. Look, I don't mean to offend you or anything, but for me this is a total waste of time. I don't think there is any way for you to change my lifestyle and, frankly, I don't want you to."_

"_Alright then, allow me to change the subject. Tell me, Paul. What are your hobbies?"_

The teenager huffed as he recalled the stupid question. "_I have none," _had been his straight-forward answer and it was true. He was a hobby-less person, who only did things he found necessary and didn't get out of his way to do something he enjoyed.

"_Then your first job will be to find one and transform it into a way of communication."_

_"How does one find a hobby, exactly?" _He had responded sassily, which had earned him a smile from the counselor.

"_Why don't you tell me what you're good at instead. Preferably, something artistic."_

_Preferably, something artistic. What the actual hell?_ He had thought scornfully. _Does it seem to him like I am an artistic person? Reggie is _so_ getting murdered tonight._

"_Come on now." _The doctor had taunted with amusement. _"You're actually telling me there's nothing in particular you're good at? Something you'd enjoy doing?"_

An image of a younger version of himself had appeared before his eyes. Back when he had been little, there had been such a thing. A thing that he did well, a thing that had brought him joy. Something he had been proud of and had wanted his parents and older brother to be proud of as well. And indeed, they had been. They had all been happy.

Paul had shaken his head slightly, chasing all thoughts of the distant past away. It had been a long time ago, back when he was a member of a complete and loving family. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on that. He didn't want to end up like his mother.

"_No. Like I told you, I've got no hobbies."_

Dr. Palmer's eyes had held a particularly mischievous glint when he had said, "_Ah, but your brother told me that once upon a time you used to be quite the writer."_

Paul had to admit he'd been surprised at those words. But surprised that Reggie had yet again shot him in the foot? Not so much. He wouldn't put it past him to reveal details about his past to random strangers and his brother had once again proved him right.

"_That was a long time ago." _He had replied through gritted teeth.

_"Well, why don't we try to renew that old passion of yours?"_

"_Sorry, sir. I'm not much of a storyteller." _Paul remembered he had added a special tint of resentment in those words, but that still hadn't caused Dr. Palmer to give up.

_"Doesn't have to be fairy tales. Just write from your heart, from past experiences, from your views on the world, from anything you know or wish to be true."_

Paul had looked utterly confused at that and the counselor had helpfully assisted him by only adding mysteriously, _"I'm sure you'll find some inspiration, Paul."_

And that brought him to the predicament he was stuck in right now. Sitting in front of his laptop in his dark room, trying to think of things to write.

Inspiration. How did one find inspiration exactly?

Paul sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts run freely. They brought him to his early childhood, a time that had definitely been the happiest for him, but which brought pain and nostalgia with its sweet and unreachable memories.

The later years of his life had been filled with much more bitterness, the result of his shattered family had taken its toll on him and molded him into the person he was today. Distant. Introverted. Cold.

He had witnessed his mother disappear in her own self and had tried to get any sign out of her, a sign that she was still alive and functioning. After a while, he had given up and let her recover from her state on her own. He had learned that mental trauma could be overcome only by the one, who was traumatized, regardless of the support and love other people showered him with. The person would only get better if he made the choice to change for the better and free himself from the dark pits in his mind.

And suddenly, he knew what to write about. He opened his eyes and adjusted himself in front of the machine which was about to become a creative tool in his hands.

And he started. From the very beginning.

* * *

><p>Dawn didn't bother to announce her arrival in the house. It was empty, anyways, although she wouldn't have done so even if her mother had been home.<p>

She imagined a younger version of herself running up the porch and entering with a triumphant "I'm home!", but something didn't sit right with that illusion. Maybe if a few things, which she had no power to change, had gone differently in her family, maybe then such a scenario would be possible.

But it wasn't. So she disregarded it, scolding herself for overthinking so much. Life would be so much easier for her if she didn't insist on torturing herself with such thoughts on a daily basis.

She sighed as she entered her room and dropped her backpack on the bare floor. Today didn't seem like it would be one of the 'bad' days in the Berlitz household, so she decided to stay there for the night. Something she hadn't done for the past few days, but doubted that her mother had even noticed.

Dawn sat by her desk and took her laptop out of her bag. Her fingers mechanically typed the website in the bar and pressed Enter. Before she knew what she was doing, the page loaded on the screen and she sighed, realizing she had gone there out of habit again.

It used to be her favorite place in the world, that site. It was a small virtual world, where people from all around the globe posted stories of various genres, discussed topics in forums and befriended each other on the base of common interests.

She was there only for the stories, though. Had been, anyways. She hadn't read anything from that site in a long time, not since the stories on there had become too unrealistic for her to enjoy them. Sure, she had loved fairy tales while growing up; they had given her hope and filled her with dreams of a brighter and fairy tale-like future and she had loved and cherished them, until she had grown up and realized that the future wasn't going to get any pinker for her at all.

The circumstances had caused her to become cynical and thus, the stories had begun seeming too far-fetched, too distant from reality, too good to ever become true. And she had simply stopped enjoying them, stopped reading them, stopped investing all her hopes in them.

Every now and then though, she couldn't stop herself from logging on and browsing aimlessly around. It had almost become like a drill over the years.

She typed in her e-mail and password and logged in to find her alert list filled with newly updated stories, which she had added a long time ago. She didn't bother checking them and instead went for browsing the recently posted ones, not really hoping to find something worth reading.

Dawn propped her chin on her palm for support as she scrolled down with her other hand. True to her expectations, nothing managed to catch her eye. She sighed with boredom, but given that she had nothing else to do, she decided to look through another page before giving up on her story hunt for the day.

As the second page of the newly listed stories loaded, Dawn did a quick scan and concluded that there was nothing worth her attention. And she barely missed it.

Crammed between two stories, whose summaries pompously promised a soap-opera type of drama inside, she narrowly spotted a story, which had no image for a cover, but provided a short 'resume' that caught her attention.

"_Real life shit, simply don't read. We all struggle to find our way to survive in this hellhole called Earth and this story can only help the average reader in one way, namely the correct grammar and spelling used in it. Don't even bother looking at it and keep scrolling; nothing fun and light for you to find here, only reality and its ugly side." _Dawn read aloud and raised an eyebrow. Wow, the writer of that story had to be a huge jackass.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from clicking on it, her interest having been peeked by the strange summary. It seemed as though the author didn't even want people to read it, which kind of contradicted the fact that he had uploaded it on a popular Internet platform.

_Hm, let's see. _Dawn began reading the first chapter of the story inside and with every minute that passed, her eyes widened more and more. By the time she read it, she was left absolutely speechless by the skill with which it had been written, but by the story it told as well.

That was the kind of story she had been looking for all along. It really reflected reality and showed its cruelty, making shivers go down Dawn's spine. _That_ was the spark she had been searching for. That was a story, for which she'd regularly check her alert list.

Still paralyzed by the genius of the text she had just read, the bluenette moved her eyes towards the author's username. "_Escaping my thoughts_," she read in a whisper and shakily reached for the mouse, suddenly feeling compelled to click on it. She did so, but the profile that appeared on the screen didn't have any description in it and she couldn't help but feel disappointed, although not completely surprised.

The bluenette saw that the account had been made just earlier that week and felt the urge to send the user a PM to praise him for his work. Whoever he or she was, it didn't seem like he/she wanted to make friends on this site. That much was clear from the summary of his story and the lack of description on his profile, but Dawn decided to be a little rebellious and send him a message nevertheless.

With a childish giggle, she clicked on the PM icon and composed her message carefully, hesitating for a second before pressing 'send'.

Dawn wondered if _escaping my thoughts_was even going to answer, but decided not to pay the matter so much thought. With a sigh, she shut down her laptop and returned it in her backpack, not wanting to forget it there on the following morning when she had to go to school. She didn't know if she'd have to spend a few more nights away from her house, after all. She had to always be ready.

With that thought in mind, the blue-haired girl went to her dresser and got out some fresh clothes, making a mental note to herself to do some laundry whenever she had the chance. She folded them with care and put them in her backpack as well, taking out a sandwich she had bought on her way 'home' and unwrapping it.

Her phone buzzed and she smiled as she saw a text from her cousin Marina.

'_how's it going, Blue? feel free to spend a few nights here'_

Dawn frowned and set her sandwich aside, wiping her hands on a napkin to type an answer. '_I'm not a charity case, you don't have to invite me over out of pity'_

_'i know, but the kids and i miss u a lot ;( plz come'_

The bluenette smiled. '_Ok then, if you insist. I'll call you tomorrow.'_

_'oki! good night, Blue! :)'_

Dawn put her phone back on the desk with a chuckle. It was still weird for her why her cousin insisted on calling her Blue, when she herself had blue hair as well, albeit a much lighter color. Over the years the nickname had just stuck and Dawn wasn't that bothered by it; quite the opposite, it made her feel like she had a strong bond with Marina, something she didn't have with anyone else from her family, no matter how much she wished for it to not be that way.

After finishing the remains of her sandwich she tossed the wrap in the empty trashcan. Checking that everything was done for her classes the following day, she decided to go to bed and try to get some rest. She didn't bother to change, but brushed her teeth and put her hair in a messy bun, preventing it from bothering her throughout the night.

She tucked herself in the cold bed and snuggled into the plain gray covers, hoping to get a night of good, dreamless sleep. She hadn't been able to sleep properly lately, but wished for a change. She wished for a lot of things to change.

Just wishing wasn't going to do anything for her though, but in the meantime she did her best to keep up with life as it was.

So she closed her eyes and forced herself to fall asleep, finding herself in a gray world of monotony where nothing ever happened, where everything stood still, but where, despite of the subdued colors and the suffocating desperation, still shone a tiny beam of hope too.

**_So, the idea for this story has been swimming around my mind for a while and I decided to finally get it out. This is really more of a prologue, I hope I'll be able to post the next chapter real soon, since it's basically already written. This story is going to include some heavy stuff, somewhat sucky backstories and sort of obscene language._**


	2. Of Encounters and Edgy Correspondence

_**Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited and/or followed! You make my day! I hope you enjoy the second chapter, so here goes!  
>Note: In this fic, Marina is in her late twenties, with an age difference of at least ten years from Dawn; Kenny is nothing like what he's portrayed in the anime and don't kill me because of it - it's an AU and it's all on purpose, so I hope you don't get too mad about it.<strong>_

_**I don't own Pokémon.**_

_**Chapter 2 - Of Encounters and Edgy Correspondence**_

Paul stared at the screen with brows furrowed in irritation.

This was what happened when he listened to Reggie's goddamn ideas. People decided they could fucking _contact_ him.

As if it hadn't been enough he had actually listened to Dr. Palmer and started writing his story. It hadn't been enough for Reggie, of course. He wouldn't leave him alone until he finally caved in and yelled angrily that he'd post the damn story online.

Which had, apparently, been a fatal mistake.

Paul scowled as he continued staring wordlessly at the result of his stupidity. He had received a message from a user called _silence is my jam but i like rock too_, who had obviously read and liked his story.

_Hey there! Sorry for bothering you, but I just wanted to say that I really liked your story! I hope I'm not being too bothersome by asking where you've found inspiration to write such a realistic and wonderful piece, but I can't help it! It's too accurate to not have been ignited by real life events, but that's none of my business. Anyways, I just wanted to say that I find your story simply amazing, for both the undeniable skill with which it was written and the emotion, which seems so real and close to the reader! Keep up the great work. :)__  
><em>_  
><em>Paul read the message, then read it again and again and once more just to make sure it was real. Who was this crazy person who had dared to PM him? Whoever he/she was, they obviously didn't know how he was and didn't know better.

Well, he'd show them and make sure they never bothered him with stupid praise again.

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_I don't need your praise and you're right that it's none of your business. I don't care if you like the story, don't bother me with nonsense again. I don't need anyone's opinion and posting my work on this stupid site was a bad idea in the first place._

_With hopes to never receive another message from your annoying persona,_

_A person who'd like to be left alone_

He pressed the 'send' button rather angrily and sighed once it was done – at least he'd made sure he wouldn't be bothered by that particular user again.

To his astonishment a few minutes later a reply arrived in his inbox. His eyebrows shot up in shock as he read the message, which held an entirely different tone from the first one he had received from that same user.

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_Hey jerkface! Listen up, because I'm really not in the mood to deal with your rotten attitude. I have enough people giving me shit in real life without your crappy self and if you think I'd just stand here and take your disrespect, you're dead wrong. Are you socially retarded not to know how to receive compliments and recognition for your work? And if posting this story online was such a bad idea, then how come you did it, huh?_

_If you really thought I'd let such a spiteful reply get by me without a response, the only thing I can tell you is to DREAM the fuck ON._

_Hoping you'd remove that stick from up your ass,_

_A pissed off user, who just wanted to show appreciation and got shit in return_

Paul was rendered speechless by the rant he'd received, but snapped out of it in a second and typed up a furious reply.

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_You're really annoying, you know that? And if no one has ever told you so, it must mean you have no friends and therefore have no right to call anyone 'socially retarded' except your own damn self. What exactly did you not understand in 'don't bother me again with your nonsense'? Sorry for being so cryptic, let me rephrase – leave me the fuck alone. Got it, you little annoyance?_

_And not that it's any of your business, but this story getting posted was courtesy of my idiotic brother, who so far has only been surpassed in his stupidity by you, you moron._

_Don't get too interested in my ass (which is completely stick-free, I can assure you) and don't. Message. Me. Again._

_Idiot._

That had to do it. Paul smirked smugly as he shut off his laptop, not expecting to receive another message from _silence is my jam but i like rock too_ again after that.

He got all his stuff ready for school and went to check up on his mother before going out. She claimed she was doing better, but she still stayed holed up in her room, looking at old photos and neglecting to eat.

Paul forced her to eat a bowl of reheated soup and left the house after making sure she had taken her pills and changed in clean clothes.

He looked up to the sky and frowned at the dark clouds above. His school wasn't that far away, but he opted for driving his old Jeep there instead of walking.

He arrived in the parking lot and after making sure the car was locked, he headed towards the building. He started climbing up the stairs towards the main entrance and passed by numerous groups of chattering people on his way. When he reached the top, his attention was caught by two people arguing loudly a few steps below.

"Fuck off, Kenny!" A girl with a black hoodie guarding her head yelled at a brown-haired dude with maliciously-glinting eyes and Paul turned around briefly to see him pulling at her sleeve with a sickening smirk.

"What's wrong, Schizo? Late for a Satanist meeting?" Paul recognized the bully – he was a popular and obnoxious jock, who thought he could get away with everything he did and took a pleasure in molesting people he considered inferior to himself.

The purple-haired boy narrowed his eyes at him. He had been on the receiving end of his taunting on a number of occasions, but the brat had stopped bothering him when he hadn't received the response he was hoping for. Paul had just ignored him and passed him by whenever he had tried to bait him into a fight; something, which would be a really smart thing for the girl to do in the moment, but, apparently, she insisted on sticking to her approach.

"Get your filthy hands. Off. Me." The girl gritted out and Paul couldn't help but roll his eyes; she was giving Kenny exactly what he was looking for.

And indeed, the brunet's eyes lit up with cruelty and his lips formed a sadistic smile. He was about to shoot out another insult, when his eyes found Paul staring at the two of them, and his smile widened. "Oh, does the Emo gravedigger have something to say?"

The girl used the moment to pull her arm away from his grasp and whipped around furiously, about to walk away. Kenny quickly grabbed the hood of her sweatshirt and yanked on it, causing her to cry out. Long blue tresses poured down her shoulders as she twisted and turned like a wild animal, trying to free herself from the boy's firm grip.

"Let. Me. Go!"

"Why, is your Daddy going to come here and beat me up? No, because he couldn't care less about-"

"Enough." This was getting ridiculous and Paul decided to interfere and break the fight once and for all. "Let her go."

The brunet looked at him with surprise and grinned crookedly. "Oh, look, it's the loser in shining armor!"

The girl pulled away with force and finally managed to break free from Kenny's firm grip. She picked up her bag from the floor and ran up the stairs wordlessly, making eye contact with Paul for a mere second before she passed him by and disappeared through the massive doors of the building.

The purple-haired boy sent Kenny a glare and turned around, going inside as well. His class was about to start and he wouldn't risk being late because of this dickhead.

Paul reached the classroom where his lesson was going to be held and went inside, scanning it for untaken seats. There was a whole unoccupied row in the back and he stalked over to a desk, putting his backpack on it and sitting silently.

A few people sent him weird looks, but he ignored them and pulled out his books. The blue-haired girl from before flew inside the classroom and heaved a sigh, apparently relieved that she hadn't arrived late.

Paul studied her with narrowed eyes, not having had the opportunity of taking a good look at her at their previous encounter. She was wearing black skinny jeans and the same black hoodie from before, her skin was pale and her hair was ruffled from the running she had apparently done across the halls of the school. He briefly wondered why she had taken longer in reaching the classroom than him, given that she had gone inside the building first. Curiosity wasn't something he expressed on often occasions, so he just disregarded the thought and fixed his stare on her once again.

Her bright blue eyes met his dark ones before she looked away and walked to the back of the class, setting her stuff on the desk on his right.

The teacher walked in and announced they were doing individual exercises for the whole classes. The navy-haired girl got her exercise book out, but instead of starting on the assigned work, she put her headphones in her ears and opened a book of her own.

Paul raised his eyebrows at her, but she didn't turn towards him and just carried on reading. He turned towards the window on his other side and narrowed his eyes at the rain that had begun pouring from the gray sky. After briefly musing that it'd been a good thing he'd taken the Jeep, he redirected his attention to the exercises he had to do.

"Dawn?" Mr. Farrell spoke up after a few minutes. Paul didn't look up and continued working on the exercises, but when nobody answered, he lifted his head and glanced around the classroom.

He followed the teacher's line of gaze and rolled his eyes when it led him to the blue-haired girl a few feet from him. He extended his right leg and kicked her chair soundlessly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, remarkably reminding him of a deer caught in the headlights, and he just motioned to the teacher in response. She took out her earplugs and spoke up, "Yes, sir?"

"Stop by my desk at the end of the class, alright?"

Some of the students turned around to look at her or sent her mocking glances, but all she did was answer with an "okay" and turn back to her book.

Paul wondered if Mr. Farrell was going to scold her for not doing her work, but disregarded it; he wouldn't wait till the end of the class to tell her to do her assigned exercises if he had noticed she wasn't doing them at the moment. He just shook his head and turned his attention back to the task at hand. It wasn't any of his business, plus he had already involved himself in her affairs more than he'd like for the day.

The class rolled around without other interruptions and when the bell rang, Paul had finished with seven pages worth of exercises. He collected his things and hurried to get to the front of the class so that he'd be able to quickly make his exit, but the other students had beat him to it and he was stuck waiting for them to slowly go out in the busy hallway.

The boy noticed Mr. Farrell asking the cobalt-haired girl something in a hushed voice and her shaking her head. The teacher spoke again and Paul faintly heard the words, "do you plan on staying there forever? You can't, your family-"

"I didn't intend for you to find out, can't you just pretend you didn't? It's not that big a deal."

Paul felt guilty for overhearing and tried to block their voices out, wishing that his moronic classmates would move faster and grant him the ability to get away from the conversation taking place behind him.

"Look, Dawn, if another teacher finds out it may be taken to the board and the consequences for both you and your parents will be severe."

"I… I'll be more careful, okay? Just don't… don't tell anybody."

Paul glanced at the two out of the corner of his eyes to see the teacher nod with concern visible in his eyes and Dawn mutter a "thank you, sir" in return.

He looked back in front of him and made his way through the door, where the crowd of students had dissipated a little, restraining himself from thinking over what the bizarre exchange might have meant.

* * *

><p>Dawn took a deep breath and stepped out of the school's main building, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt on as she did so. The weather was being more awful than ever, but she really couldn't care less if she was going to get a little wet.<p>

_Still, _she mused as she felt water seep through her black converses, _It wouldn't have hurt to think __where to go to beforehand._

She trudged on the side of the road aimlessly, not really having a direction. She enjoyed the soft plop she heard every time she stepped in a puddle and tried to ignore the fact that the strong wind was causing her to tremble.

After a few more minutes of aimless wandering, Dawn reached a deserted bus stop and decided to take a break. She sat down on the bench and took off her hood, running a hand through her slightly damp hair. The rain had intensified and she was grateful for the primitive shelter the bus stop provided.

The girl shivered and wrapped her hands around herself, briefly questioning the sense of her actions. She should have just stayed in school till the storm cooled off before going off on an aimless adventure, or gone to her hideout, or maybe even gone home. With every minute, the chance of her coming down with a cold became more and more likely.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, making a silent vow to think things through before stranding herself in the middle of nowhere with no idea whatsoever where to go, and more importantly, how to get there alive. The storm, which had started out like a small drizzle of autumn rain, had quickly evolved into a terrifying thunderous hell, and as Dawn hugged herself even more closely, she marveled at her incredulous stupidity.

_Oh well…_ She was going to try harder next time. That was, if she managed to survive this, she thought to herself melodramatically.

Calling either of her parents was out of the question and she didn't really have any friends she could rely on either. The only thing she could invest her hopes in was her own self, but seeing that she had gotten herself stuck in this predicament all on her own, she didn't get too excited about the situation.

Worst case scenario, she'd be stuck there all night if the storm didn't cool down and on the following morning she'd be forced to visit a hospital because of the hypothermia she was bound to get.

Dawn heaved another sigh and crossed her legs in front of her, eyes still closed. _Getting myself drowned in this hell, oh joy…_

A sudden honk brought her out of her helpless stupor and she nearly fell from the cold bench in her start. She opened her eyes and narrowed them at the road on front of her, struggling to see through the heavy rain. Two round lights, which were shining through the grayish darkness, helped her come to the conclusion that a car had pulled over a few meters from the bus stop.

It honked again and Dawn looked around, suddenly becoming very uneasy. There wasn't another person in sight, so they had to be honking at her, which made her freak out of her skin. If some psychopath thought that she'd get into his car just like that, they were dead wrong, although there wasn't much she could do to defend herself, especially in her current surroundings.

She heard a door open and close and saw a figure run over to where she was sitting under the feeble roof of the bus stop. Her eyes widened in horror and she felt the urge to scream, although she knew it wouldn't do anything to help her.

"Are you fucking _crazy_?"

She gaped at the boy in front of her, barely recognizing him from that morning. He was in some of her classes, but she had never spoken to him before. She continued staring at him wordlessly, causing him to send her a deadly glare.

"What are you waiting for? Get in the car."

She was unable to wipe the look of astonishment off her face and only managed to blurt out an "I'm sorry, what?"

His dark eyes narrowed at her as he flicked his damp hair away from his face. "Are you stupid? You're going to freeze up here."

"So I should get in a car with you? I don't even _know_ you." Dawn pointed out, breaking out of her trance, and tried to hide her trembling hands in her pockets.

The stranger rolled his eyes impatiently. "Let's save the introductions for later, alright? Maybe, I don't know, _when you're not on the verge of getting pneumonia?_"

The girl sighed and admitted to herself that she was really being too stubborn for her own good. This guy didn't seem to have any bad intentions and had just decided to help her out when he'd seen her stranded on the road. Something he was clearly regretting at the moment, if the irritated look on his face was any indication.

She hugged her backpack firmly and muttered a timid "fine", before standing up and hurriedly following her savior back to his Jeep, hoping to herself that there wouldn't be a reason for her to regret her decision later.

"Thanks." She spoke up as he slammed the door to the driver's seat after himself.

He nodded as he turned up the heat and rubbed his palms together.

Dawn was unsure what to say, but finally settled on simply introducing myself. "I'm Dawn. What's your name?"

"Paul." There was a short pause, before he added with a dry laugh, "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but…"

The blue-haired girl laughed as well and ran a hand through her wet navy hair. "Yeah. Well, thank you anyways." She bit her lip. "For this morning as well."

Paul turned towards her with a quizzical look. "For kicking your chair?"

She smiled and shook her head. "For telling Kenny off."

Paul scrunched his eyebrows. "Kengo sure can be an obnoxious ass. You got out of the situation all by yourself though."

"Regardless," Dawn shrugged as she shifted to get more comfortable in the passenger seat. "There aren't many people who would've stood up for me in that situation."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "If you insist on calling that 'standing up for you'." He turned back ahead and turned on the ignition. "Where to?"

Dawn blinked rapidly at the question. "I… uh, I'm not… sure."

Paul frowned at her. "Are you homeless or something?"

The girl shot him a glare. "For your information, no, I'm not." She looked at the road ahead as the Jeep pulled out and started moving forwards on the slippery surface. "I guess… I'll be going to my cousin's."

After a minute of silence, Paul cleared his throat sheepishly. "Care to give me an address?"

"Oh! Sorry! Liberty street number 43."

He nodded and she leaned her head on the window with a sigh.

They arrived in the driveway of Marina's house a few minutes later and Dawn turned towards him with a small smile of gratitude before stepping out of the car. "Sorry for being a bother. I appreciate it, but don't go out of your way to help me next time you see me in trouble."

He just stared at her blankly, causing her to grin with amusement. There hadn't been any snarkiness to her tone and he concluded that she was honestly warning him not to get involved with her problems for his own good. Well, that was an advice he could gladly follow, he thought as he noticed the currently wet state of the inside of his Jeep.

The girl got out of the car and hurriedly ran up to the door of her cousin's, where she was shielded from the intense rain. She looked back and gave him a little wave, before letting herself in the house like it was her own home.

Paul watched her get inside with furrowed brows, before shaking his head slightly and pulling out of the driveway.

* * *

><p>"So, how's the life of a writer going, little bro?" Reggie poked his head from the kitchen with a smug smirk as Paul closed the front door behind him with a soft 'thud'. The younger sibling gave him an annoyed look as he shook his wet jacket off. "Fame catching up with you already?"<p>

Paul scowled as he passed by his obnoxious brother and went to take something to eat from the fridge. "Some stupid person's actually decided to message me. It's all your fault."

Reggie grinned as he offered his brother a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. "That, I admit. But hey, I knew you'd gain some fans! You're a writing genius, little bro!"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Reggie." He took the bowl and went up the stairs to his room. He wouldn't be able to spend the whole evening with his smug brother while he was determined to tease and molest him. He'd much rather argue with that stubborn online fan of his, who had gone from praising his work to calling him a number of names and profanities. He was surrounded by mental people from all angles.

As if on cue, his phone beeped indicating that he'd received a new notification email from the site. Paul rolled his eyes as he saw a message from that same person. _Speak of the devil. _Got their hands on some Wi-Fi and decided they should bother him just for the sake of it, he thought resentfully.

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_Excuse you, but I'll call anyone I deem fit 'socially retarded' and you seem to fill the bill pretty nicely. My social communications are none of your concern, you rude little prick, so don't make stupid assumptions. And since you're so determined on calling me an annoyance, then I might as well work to earn that title and message you as much as I fucking please._

_Send your brother my condolences and tell him I'm really sorry that he has such a jackass for a sibling. It must be tough dealing with you on a daily basis, tell him to hang in there._

_Me? Interested in your ass? You wish._

_I'll message you if I goddamn feel like it, so get over it, sunshine._

_P.S. I'm not an idiot, but feel free to call insulting names at the mirror on my behalf._

Paul glared at his phone, wishing it had the ability to carry out the consequences of his anger to the person who'd sent him the message. He turned on his laptop while waiting for his soup to cool down a little and typed a reply.

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_If you don't want me making stupid assumptions about your life then don't make such guesses about mine either. Seeing that you won't take a hint and just give up, I'll just stop replying to you after this. Maybe ignoring you is the right way to go here, you little annoyance._

_My brother is already aware of what a pain in the neck I can be, so don't feel too sorry for him. Especially since he gets on my nerves a lot more than I do on his, mind you. God help me if you knew me in real life, you'd be a hell of a lot to handle; I think I might just kill myself at the thought._

_I'm dropping the ass subject, your stupidity simply doesn't deserve to be addressed._

_Don't call me sunshine._

_P.S. You ARE an idiot. Scan through the messages you've sent me so far and you're sure to find plenty of proof for that._

Paul clicked 'send' with a sigh, not really up for arguing with someone he didn't even know, via a site he was forced onto against his will. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his thoughts taking him to the girl he'd just given a ride to. She was definitely a weirdo, he'd give her that – getting herself in trouble, standing in the middle of nowhere during a storm and all that. He couldn't quite decide if she had a thrilling addiction to danger or if she was just plain stupid, but either way her affairs weren't something he'd voluntarily get himself involved in.

It would be best for him if he took her advice and stayed away from what wasn't his concern. He knew what was good for him and it was clear as day that she wasn't it.

Nope, it wouldn't do for him to go out of his way to help strangers stranded on the side of the road again. Definitely not.

With that resolve in mind, he got back to his soup and opened a blank Word document, getting started on the second chapter of his apparently well-liked story.

He rolled his eyes as he thought of the annoying user he was having a rather sharp-tongued correspondence with.

Some people were just too much to deal with.

* * *

><p>Dawn shoved a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and hummed happily. Her cousin gave her a weird look and laughed as she reached for the remote and turned the TV on the kids' channel.<p>

"Mama, mama! We want ice cream too!"

Two little boys at the age of 3 and 4 ran up to Marina and started pulling at her sleeve with cute pouts on their adorably squishy faces. The woman crossed her arms firmly and gave them a mock-cross look. "Aren't you two supposed to be in bed? It's late!"

The two kids started whining loudly, on the verge of fake tears and Marina told them to go bother their father. They ran out of the room with hopeful grins on their faces and Dawn heard them begging their dad for ice cream from the kitchen.

"They're adorable." She remarked as she scooped up more of the tasty dessert.

Her cousin huffed. "Spend a full day with them and then talk about it." She rubbed her temple and leaned back on the couch. "I haven't slept properly in a week because of their whimsies. You see how they are. They get too hyper and won't go to sleep until we give them whatever they want. Jimmy and I haven't gone out for months."

Dawn frowned at that. "Don't Mickey and Alex go to kindergarten?"

"They do, but sometimes they don't want to go and I have to take care of them all day long when Jimmy has to work. And on his free days there's always work for him to do around the new apartment. Since I can't stand being around his parents, he is forced to do the work all on his own, so I really can't ask anything more of him." Marina looked down at her lap with sadness. "I feel really bad for not doing anything, you know… not having a job and all… Plus putting him through my moody attitude... Everything falls on him and even though he doesn't show it, I know he feels under pressure."

Dawn looked at her cousin with empathy and blurted out the next words without so much as a thought. "Why don't you two take the night off?"

"Huh?" Marina looked up with furrowed brows.

Dawn hummed in contemplation and spoke up after a second, "Why don't you go out and have dinner right now? I can look after the kids."

"I- Dawn, no, they're… they're a real handful, especially with someone they're not all that used to. They'll think they can boss you around and get everything their way and molest you-"

"Marina. Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can handle them. Plus the storm died down and the weather is perfect for a romantic late night walk." Dawn smiled at her cousin. "You and Jimmy go out and have well-deserved fun."

Marina hesitated. "You sure?"

The teenage girl nodded and ushered her out of the room. In a matter of minutes she and Jimmy had gone out of the house and left her alone with the two bandits.

The boys flew in the living room and looked up at Dawn with identical evil grins. She cleared her throat and raised a finger warningly. "Now, don't you two think I'm going to be your ragdoll. I'm in charge now and you're going to do what I say. Is that clear?"

She towered over them threateningly and they shared a scared look before a huge grin overcame her face and she giggled at them. "Now, want to play a round of Hide and Seek before bed?"

Mickey and Alex gave out happy yells and scrammed out to the hallway hurriedly, in search of good hiding spots. Dawn laughed at their eagerness and plopped back on the sofa, folding her legs beneath her and taking another spoonful of ice cream.

She wondered if she'd ever be as lucky as Marina in finding such a wonderful and caring person such as Jimmy to love her despite of her flaws and to be her faithful companion in life. She highly doubted that anyone would take an interest in her own self and even if they did, they wouldn't bother trying to understand the complexity of her character; she certainly wasn't one to make things easy for the hypothetical person that wanted to get to know her either – after having seen firsthand what a long-lasting love could turn into, in the face of her parents, she wasn't sure she wanted anything to do with such feelings.

Well, she had once trusted Kenny, who hadn't always treated her this way. He had been her friend, someone she could confide to, not someone who insisted on making her life a burning hell, like he did nowadays. She vividly remembered the day, many years back, when she had ran over to his house just on the other side of the road to escape the chaos that had been happening in hers; he had welcomed her warmly, just like any previous time she had needed him to, comforted her and told her it was going to be alright.

He had pretty much been the protective brother she never had, but then things had changed. On his side, anyways – things never really changed for her and to that day, she couldn't understand what had caused their fallout.

She wasn't sure what had happened, but sure enough they had drifted apart, not talked for a while and in their high-school years he had started bullying her, along with other people he had marked as weaklings who deserved to get a piece of his distorted mind. It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't know so many personal things about her, if he didn't know _just_ where to hit her with his words for it to hurt. If he hadn't been someone she'd have never thought capable of such cruelty.

Kind, understanding Kenny, who, in their earlier years, had soothed her with his words, instead of using them as a weapon against her, and had never hesitated to help her any way he could.

Yeah, well, things weren't this way anymore, Dawn thought with bitterness. He had changed for reasons, which remained unknown to her, and was now a completely different person. While she had made her peace with the fact that Kenny and her were never going to be the friends they once were, his never-to-be-forgotten betrayal and sudden shift of behavior towards her continued to sting like a fresh wound.

The girl snapped out of her reverie, astounded by her mind's unique ability to whip out an unpleasant thought or memory at every situation it was presented to. She shook her head, trying to prevent her thoughts from bringing back any more pain and sourness.

Be it reading, listening to music or doodling aimlessly on her arm with a marker, distractions were all she lived for. It was solely because of them that she'd been able to save a little chunk of her sanity over the years.

Not having quite reached the point in her mental state where she could trust her thoughts not to drive her crazy, she decided to go for a distraction again. So, she stood up and started looking around for the two giddy kids, who, with a bit of luck, wouldn't have to find themselves in such hopeless situations as their troubled, troubled aunt.

**_So... yeah. I hope I lived up to your expectations, and if not... well, I tried my best. :p Have a good day!_**


	3. A Sense of Deja Vu

_**You guys have been so supportive, I just can't thank you enough! I hope you enjoy!  
>I don't own Pokémon.<strong>_

**_Chapter 3 – A Sense of Deja Vu_**

Dawn mumbled something incoherent and turned over in her sleep. Her eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head slightly. Her fidgeting caused the blanket around her to slide off and drop to the floor.

The girl abruptly opened her eyes and sat up at the speed of light, taking a sharp breath. She frantically looked around, her distress causing her heart to speed up. As her breathing gradually returned to normal, she took in her surroundings, her confusion clearing out upon realizing just where she was.

She lied back down on the old rugged sofa with a sigh and covered her face with her palms. It hadn't been one of her favorite nights, that was for sure. All had been going peacefully and uneventfully at the Berlitz household, until her father had showed up at the door, clearly inebriated on a certain level, shouting out at her mother to come down. He was demanding that she signed some 'formal' papers, which in reality were scribbles on a napkin he had written in his drunken daze and which, according to his inarticulate threatening, would set off the process of him taking full custody over Dawn.

It had been a while since her dad had last made such a display. Dawn wondered if his wife was out of town on some sort of trip again, granting him the freedom to indulge in his drinking problem. Whatever his reason for showing up at her house had been that night, she was just glad that she had managed to slip past him without getting his attention. She already knew how the whole thing was going to play out – her mother wouldn't even come down from her room to take part in the charade and after a bit of shouting and throwing curses at the stairway, her father would pass out on the floor of the living room.

The girl sighed again and rolled over so that she was facing the lava lamp on an old tripod, which was cluttered with an outstanding amount of junk for its little size. She reached out for her phone, which was balancing on the top of an unstable tower of things that had fascinatingly still not collapsed and pressed a button. Her eyes instinctively narrowed at the screen in a protest against the bright light which it projected onto her face. She groaned as she saw that it wasn't even midnight yet. Her head hurt like hell and she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so it looked like it was going to be a long and excruciating night.

She sat up and flexed her neck, satisfied with the cracks the movement caused. Her eyes had accustomed to the darkness of the room and she could make out some of its familiar features. A few feet away from the sofa she had been lying on, stood a tall bookcase whose shelves were packed to the absolute maximum with dusty encyclopedias and textbooks. Next to the sofa there was an old writing desk supporting two computers, which looked like they had been taken out of a prototype museum, and a writing machine, which was completely covered in dust, but other than that seemed to be in a great condition.

Dawn wondered what she could entertain herself with, her eyes ultimately stopping on a pile of old library books on another table. She stood up from the bumpy plush sofa and made her way towards it, briefly musing that the school should really do a spring cleaning as she maneuvered around the random stacks of junk scattered across the carpeted floor. She grabbed the book on top of the pile, not willing to risk it demolishing and adding to the mess she was surrounded with.

_The light of my phone screen will have to do, _she contemplated as she returned to her nest on the sofa. Just as she got comfortable and ready to lose herself in the magic of _Pride and Prejudice, _she heard distant voices coming from the halls outside. She felt a rush of panic as she realized they were getting closer and looked around frantically, wondering what to do.

Dawn froze as the door creaked open and mentally swore as she saw some fluorescent light pour inside. She stared blankly at the large bookcase in front of her, which was separating her from the other half of the room, where someone was currently walking around and fumbling through all the junk.

_Damn it, what's somebody doing at school this late? _Dawn was too close to getting busted and she knew what chaos would be unleashed if she was to be found there at the middle of the night.

A part of her wishfully hoped that if she stood really still and the person on the other side of the bookcase didn't decide to be an explorer, she might just remain undiscovered and there wouldn't be any prob-

_thump_

Dawn's eyes widened and she saw in slow motion how the book between her hands slid out of her grasp and hit the floor with a soft _thud. _Her mouth opened on its own accord and before she could stop herself, she heard a quiet 'shit' roll off her tongue.

Well, shit indeed.

* * *

><p>Paul trudged his feet across the halls alongside his teacher, wondering how much more time it would be until he would be able to go back home.<p>

"Thanks for helping me out again, Paul. If it wasn't for you, I'd have to be here till the morning. You sure get work done fast."

The boy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and just nodded in response. Even though this wasn't the first time he'd helped out Mr. Farrell with administration work (this time it had been organizing some school files), the teacher still insisted on expressing his gratitude. The two of them had had this deal running for a while now – once a week, Paul stayed after class and contributed to the fulfilling of various bothersome chores teachers apparently had to do, and in return Mr. Farrell frequently e-mailed his brother report cards describing the activities the younger sibling indulged in as a member of a completely made-up club, which supposedly resembled a support group of students in the realms of the school society.

Reggie had been so pleased upon hearing that Paul was taking part in something involving human contact that he hadn't bothered him as much about his need to obtain more social skills.

Granted, the whole conspiracy the student and the teacher shared had its downside, namely the former's hyperactive brother taking a tad _too_ big of an interest towards the fictional school club and thus, creating the need for Mr. Farrell to describe to him its exact purpose and functions on a frequent basis. The tutor had claimed it was a lot of fun for him to do and Paul had just let him enjoy himself, as it clearly brought him some inexplicable middle-age type of entertainment. Crazy people were truly all he was surrounded by.

"Ah, it's gotten really late." Mr. Farrell tsk-d as he took a look at his watch. "Okay, last thing for tonight – there are some papers, which were handed in last year that I need to compare with ones getting submitted for a grade now. More and more students have become keen on the idea to just copy off older works, but those rascals can't outsmart me. I know all of their techniques for breezing off high school and I gotta tell you, none of them could ever work on me!"

Paul raised an eyebrow at his teacher as the two turned around a corner. The man smiled sheepishly under the boy's gaze. "Back to the point, while I get my things from my office, I need you to go to the storage room over there and fetch those papers for me. Look for the tag _Literary works from the Romanticism."_

Paul nodded and went over to the door at the end of the hall, while Mr. Farrell took a left and headed towards his office, his retreating footsteps echoing in the empty building. The boy pressed the handle and went inside, narrowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. The whole room was so cluttered with junk, both on the walls and the floor, that he couldn't even find a light switch and had to settle for the glow of the hallway lamps.

At first he thought that there was just a narrow corridor which extended for a few meters, but upon closer inspection he realized that the bookcase, which he had thought to be the wall on his right, was standing between him and the other half of the storeroom. Great, twice as much searching for him to do. Now, where were those papers he had to-

_thump_

Paul's instincts kicked in like a wild predator's and his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings, as if looking for prey. On tables and chairs of various sizes stood piled up so many different things that it wouldn't be a wonder if one of them had fallen down on its own. The boy was almost fully convinced that had been the cause of the sound he'd heard, when he heard a quiet 'shit' come out of seemingly nowhere.

With narrowed eyes he stepped further inside the room and rounded the corner around the tall bookcase which was concealing a part of the room away from his view. Slowly, a faintly glimmering lava lamp came into his field of vision and next to it, illuminated by its soft glow, stood the last thing he had expected to see.

His jaw dropped as he recognized the big blue eyes, which were staring back at him in shock. "You've got to be kidding me."

The girl just gaped right back at him, apparently just as flabbergasted. He noticed she was sitting on an old-looking olive-green sofa, her legs wrapped in a blanket, with her sneakers kicked off on the floor and her backpack standing next to a cluttered tripod. It didn't take a mastermind to figure out that she'd been staying there and he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"With a risk of repeating myself, I'm just going to ask. Are you homeless?!"

The girl seemed to regain her focus and looked as though she was about to shoot a biting comeback, when a voice rang from the doorway. "Paul, I'm good to go. Have you found the papers yet?"

Her eyes widened to the size of tennis balls and she quickly mouthed something to him, saying "Farrell?!"

He stared at her speechlessly as she mimicked something to him, looking absolutely furious. He put his hand up, trying to get her to calm down and, regaining his ability to talk, shouted out to the teacher, "I need just another minute, sir."

"Well, I better come and help you. This place is packed like an eccentric old lady's house, it will take you forever."

The girl quickly lied down on the sofa, covering herself up with the blanket and stuffing the lava lamp in between the seat cushions, causing that half of the room to lose some of its light. Paul narrowed his eyes at her actions but his attention was caught by Mr. Farrell, who had suddenly materialized behind him.

"You can't find them, you say? Well, it's no wonder, really! Look at how dark this place is! Say, where was that switch…"

"Is it at all possible that the papers are in your office, sir?" Paul asked, maintaining an even voice and a poker face, as he turned around. Mr. Farrell gave him a weird look, opened and closed his mouth and rubbed his chin in contemplation.

"Well, I guess it's not excluded… I'm pretty sure things from this long ago are more likely to be here though, but…"

The boy didn't hesitate to interrupt. "We might find them a lot faster if I keep searching here and you go through your office just to make sure."

The teacher beamed up at him. "Sharp as always, Paul. It's a good thing I have you as my helper." He turned on his heel and disappeared from the boy's sight, loudly exclaiming "Reggie will be getting an extra praising report this week!" before he went out the door and off to his office.

The girl kicked the blanket off and quickly jumped to her feet. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Paul looked at her unimpressed. "I think your answer to this question would be far more entertaining."

She glared at him and ran a hand through her hair frantically. "The last thing I need right now is Farrell busting me. Can't you get him out of here somehow?"

Paul scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Man needs his papers. There's nothing I can do."

The girl's head perked up. "Which papers? What are they on?"

He scratched the back of his head. "_Literary works from the Romanticism_, I think."

The blue-haired disaster (quite a fitting name, if you asked him) jumped up at the speed of light and threw herself at a cabinet in the corner of the dark room. "Jeez, why didn't you say so sooner? I've read them all!"

All Paul could do was stare. _Just how much time has she spent here?!_

"Renaissance… Victorian Era… Aha, here they are!" She pulled out a binder triumphantly and handed it to Paul with a shit-eating grin. "Go on, give it to him and get the hell out of here!"

He hesitantly took it and with a last glance towards the seemingly homeless girl, he turned to leave, but was stopped by Farrell, who had soundlessly appeared in the room. The teacher's look had become grim and Paul had a feeling he knew why.

Farrell pushed past him offhandedly and stared at the girl. "Dawn, I told you not to come here anymore." His voice had lost all of its cheerfulness and was now stern and sharp. "You know how risky it is, other teachers stay late as well. You know that if someone else finds you…"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Paul suddenly felt extremely uneasy, as if he was intruding on something that wasn't any of his business. Which, in all honesty, it wasn't, but Farrell was blocking his exit and he couldn't do anything to get out of there.

The girl, Dawn, didn't say anything and just stared at her lap silently, biting her lip. The teacher checked his watch, then leaned closer to her and spoke up again with a more muffled voice. "Look, I won't say anything to anyone, but you have to promise to be more careful. You know that if social services get involved, the result might be irreversible and things will get ten times harder for you."

"I… I know all that…" Dawn spoke up finally, playing with a hair tie on her wrist and avoiding Mr. Farrell's gaze.

"I don't think you realize the seriousness of the situation, Dawn." The teacher crouched down in front of her. "If a social worker finds out about this, it is done for your parents. You don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not!" The girl stood up to her feet, anger replacing all timidness in the span of a second. "What was I supposed to do though? Huh? Sometimes I just can't be there! I couldn't be there tonight and there will certainly be times when I won't in the future! So tell me, what was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go?"

She stared expectantly at Mr. Farrell with a clenched jaw, as if waiting for him to answer her. Then she just shook her head and quickly put on her sneakers, taking her phone and backpack in her hands and trying to brush past Paul and the teacher.

"Dawn! Wait, where are you going?"

"I'd tell you if I knew," she shot out a biting response as she stepped to the right in an attempt to get past Mr. Farrell.

"It's the middle of the night. You're not going anywhere."

She stared at him with blazing eyes, but didn't say anything. He rubbed his temple and gave her a tired look. "Just sleep here tonight and we'll figure out something tomorrow. Alright?"

She stared at him for the longest second and then nodded, somewhat resignedly and set her backpack back on the floor. Mr. Farrell looked at Paul and said, "I can trust you not to mention any of this, right, Paul? We can't risk getting Miss Berlitz in any more trouble."

The boy nodded silently, his blank stare boring into the girl's head. It wasn't like he'd go off telling anyone about it, it wasn't any of his business and he certainly wasn't one to throw other people's personal problems in the center of the public attention. It wasn't where he'd want his own shit to be.

"Fine then." Mr. Farrell gave a long sigh and turned to leave. "We'll talk tomorrow, Dawn." He took the binder from Paul and exited the storage room, leaving the two teenagers alone.

Dawn looked up quizzically at the boy, who was still staring at her blankly. "Aren't you leaving?"

He broke out of his trance and quickly moved his eyes away from her. "Yes. Good night."

Paul turned away and disappeared behind the old bookcase. His hand was on the handle of the door, when he heard a muffled "Good night," in return.

He just shook his head and went out of the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He had a feeling that this wouldn't be the end of his involvement with the strange girl, but chose to ignore it.

* * *

><p>Mr. Farrell briefly scanned the classroom as he went inside. His eyes stopped on two particular students in the back of the class and he narrowed them for a fraction of second, before focusing his attention on pulling out a sheet of paper from his briefcase.<p>

"Good morning, class," he greeted inattentively, without looking up. He sounded dispirited, apathetic even and it was no wonder – he had barely gotten any sleep, dwelling on Dawn's dilemma. He hadn't been able to come up with anything in regard with her sleeping arrangements, because, after all, he had no real control over her, nor had the power to change whatever was causing her to resort to the storage room of the school. But he had schemed out a course of action, which could result to be helpful for the girl, although there was no saying how it might play out; he'd just have to wait and see if he indeed _was_ a genius in disguise.

"Today I'll be assigning you tasks to do on your own quietly. Everyone, turn to page 394 and start reading the analysis of the book we've been studying and then write down the things you deem inaccurate or out of place. Because, yes, Connor, there are such things. Then make a detailed plan and start constructing your own text on the topic. I'll be collecting your works next Friday."

He ignored the collective groan of the students and added, "You better get started. I'll be expecting some nicely-written essays. Don't look at me like that, Connor."

Mr. Farrell heard the complaints die down little by little and the classroom fill with sounds of flipping pages. He looked up and saw the two in the back start working as well. "Dawn and Paul," he addressed them, effectively catching their attention. They both looked up at him with identical wide eyes and expressions, which said they had an idea of what was to follow and didn't like it. He suppressed the smirk, which was tugging on his lips and kept on a nonchalant face.

"You two come with me. I'm assigning you a different project you'll be working on as a pair."

Even if he might have had some doubts about his plan, the expressions on their faces at those words wiped them all away and assured him it was worth it. He watched as they wordlessly stood up from their seats and approached his desk; while they had composed themselves and put on emotionless faces, behind their eyes he could read a mix of various emotions.

The aura which Dawn emitted all but screamed "I know exactly what you're doing; you couldn't have just left me to deal with this on my own, could you?" He smiled at her, trying to reassure her it was all for her own good, but she purposely avoided his gaze as she stopped in front of him.

Paul, on the other hand, was staring at him with no trace of shame whatsoever, his eyes demanding to know why he was being dragged into this. The teacher scratched the back of his head sheepishly and gave his student an apologetic look; he truly was sorry to involve him in his scheme, but felt it would turn out for the best if there was someone he could trust to look after Dawn. Poor Paul though; Mr. Farrell could clearly see his obvious disdain towards anything that was forced upon him and it was more than evident that this entailed more than just a school-related project.

Mr. Farrell managed a tired smile at his two students as they stared at him expectantly, silently urging him to justify his actions.

Was it too much to say that he was feeling intimidated by them?

"Well, sir, what is this project that you want us to do?" Dawn spoke up, adding a pinch of sharpness to her voice, which he was very capable of picking on.

Why, no. To say he was intimidated by these two children would even be an understatement.

"Hold up." Kenny spoke up from his seat in the front of the class, just a few feet behind Dawn and Paul. "How come these losers get assigned different tasks? Are you choosing your favorites for this class, sir? Because I'd sure like to know how to become one." He leaned forwards and tugged on Dawn's sleeve. "Mind sharing your secret, asocial girl?"

Dawn pulled her arm away and briefly turned around to give him an unimpressed look. Mr. Farrell cleared his throat and stood up in an attempt to put the idea of his authority into the thick-skinned brat's head.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Kengo. All of you shall be assigned such projects by the end of the class. But seeing as you're so eager to do extra school work, I'll make sure to give you more assignments to keep you busy at home." The teacher smiled at the boy genuinely, but he only scowled in return.

Farrell coughed slightly and turned his attention back to Dawn and Paul. "Now, you two follow me. The rest of you, keep doing your work. I'll be back in a few minutes, so I suggest you don't pull any nonsense."

He exited the classroom with the two on his heels and led them to his office at the end of the hall. The tutor had half-expected Dawn to burst out the moment the door closed behind them, but contrary to his expectations, she was staring at him patiently, waiting for him to explain himself.

He smiled at her; it seemed that she _was_ capable of keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself after all and he was grateful for being granted the opportunity to talk before getting attacked.

"Alright, here's what you two will have to do." The teacher rounded his desk and sat in his chair, motioning for the two to sit down as well. "I want each of you to write me an essay on the topic _Why life is amazing. _Deadline is the end of the term, so you have plenty of time to complete it."

Dawn and Paul both stared at him blankly, as if unsure how to respond. He simply smiled at them. "That's it."

The blue-haired girl was the first to speak up. "Wait, what? If that's all we have to do, then why do we have to be in a pair? And why are we the only ones who are getting assigned this?"

Paul merely gave her a side glance, but nodded in agreement, setting his gaze on Farrell once again. The teacher's smile only widened. "There's a very good reason why you'll be doing this as a pair. Of course, I expect separately written essays from each of you, but the point of this project is to explore _why _life is amazing and do it _together."_

Dawn just blinked at him, confusion painted all across her face. The tutor intertwined his fingers together and leaned forwards, resting his chin on them. "What I expect of you is to find and share reasons on the topic, using your combined intelligence and experiences. Because both of them add up to quite a lot, as I'm sure you're going to find out."

The girl was still staring uncomprehendingly and Paul joined her by shooting his teacher a look of disbelief. Farrell ignored them both and cleared his throat lightly, pulling out the same sheet of paper from before. "As for your other question, Miss Berlitz, I can assure you that all of your classmates will be assigned projects of this nature as well. The reason I'm giving them to you individually is that everyone's topic is different."

"Why?"

"This is a task which is intended to be more beneficial for the students than the teacher and each person's topic is different depending on something I've observed that I think they should do some thinking on." The looks on his students' faces in that moment could only be described as _what the hell are you babbling about, dude?_ "Since you're both looking at me rather confusedly, I think it'd be best if I gave you an example. Okay, let's see…"

He paused for a brief moment and moved his gaze across the paper in his hand. "Yes, here's Mr. Kengo's assigned topic. _Why bullying isn't good and what reasons one might have for taking it up. _You see, the aim of this project is to make you _think _and help you overcome something I've observed you're struggling with."

Dawn furrowed her eyebrows. "By that logic, are Paul and I by any chance walking around with _I'm giving up on life _imprinted on our foreheads? Because that's what you're making it sound like."

"I can assure I am implying nothing of the sort. If you take a look at this list, I'm sure you'll notice that you're the only ones in the class who'll be doing this as a pair. And before you say anything, I want to ask of you that you trust me on this. I truly think that you can both benefit from this arrangement."

Mr. Farrell stood up from his desk and went to the door of his office, holding it open for the two teenagers. As they passed in front of him, he added quietly, "You'll both find out you're more similar to each other than you know. And I think it's going to help you."

None of them said anything and the three just walked back to the classroom in silence. Before they went in however, Farrell turned to Dawn. "I trust you to use your brain, Dawn. I hope whatever's going on at your home gets resolved and doesn't require you to take such drastic measures, but if it does…" The look he gave her was almost fatherly. "I trust you to be careful. And I hope you know that you can trust me too."

The girl just nodded in return.

As the three of them entered the classroom, different thoughts sashayed through their minds.

_Whatever we're supposed to share, I can't afford to pour all my problems on the head of yet another person._

_We can't possibly have anything in common._

_If this works out the way I planned, I'm going to quit my job and become a pro counsellor._

* * *

><p><em>The aim of this report is to describe Paul Shinji's involvement in the school organization, known among the students as "Here for each other" and outline the progress he's made as a member of it so far.<em>

_As I'm sure you already know, this so-called club plays the role of a support group in the school society; something, which I can confirm is very beneficial for the students, especially for those who feel somewhat isolated and maybe even unwanted by their peers._

_Your brother, however, shows no signs of being either of those things and still, I can proudly say that he is making great use of said organization. He does seem reluctant to engage in human contact, although I'm sure you'll notice a gradual change in that aspect. You might not quite understand what I mean by this, but all I'm going to say is that the club has welcomed a new member and it's one, which I think young Mr. Shinji is quite likely to take an interest in._

_But enough of me being a wannabe psychic, giddy gossip girl and a pathetic excuse for a teacher, who doesn't really have anything else to do with his life. Most importantly, enough of me being a formal jackass, while all I'm dying to ask here is,_

_What's new with you, Reggie? Any new cookie batter I ought to know about? :)_

_P.S. Drop by the school if you feel like it sometime, but please note that you won't be acknowledged unless you're bringing one of your heavenly cakes. I must have your recipe._

**I honestly didn't intend to include so much of Mr. Farrell. Hehe, kinda strayed from my plan on that one. Anyways, he won't have that much of a major role from here on out, although I really like him. Oh well.**

**Lack of Paul backstory and Paul-centered stuff overall, which I'm sorry for, but intend to make up for in future chapters.**

**Also, cyber cookie for you if you spotted the Harry Potter reference (it's too obvious, but I just couldn't resist).**


	4. Screaming Yellow

_**I'm so sorry, y'all deserved an update much sooner. I hope you enjoy!  
>I don't own Pokémon.<strong>_

_**Chapter 4 - Screaming Yellow**_

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_Hey there and before you say anything about how annoying I am, I'd like to propose a truce. And I know you said you won't be replying anymore, but I just need some advice. Judging by our correspondence so far I'd say that you're fairly constipated when it comes to the social skills department (and I'm in no way saying this to insult you, merely making an observation), but I don't have anyone else to talk to. Sad, right? I know. Oh, well, gotta do what I can even if it means relying on you for advice._

_So, here's my dilemma. Imagine you're being forced into a situation involving another person, about whom you know next to nothing, and you have to discuss some deep shit with them and even get some inspiration out of the whole exchange. The person you have to work with – someone you think is unlikely you'll ever come to communicate normally with and who is totally different from you, even though a third person implies that you are connected on some deeper (and, in my personal opinion, imaginary) level, so you have to make an effort to find those supposed similarities, BUT the other person seems like the hardest person on earth to even begin to understand and talk to (key word being seems – like I said, you are basically strangers, but that's the aura the person gives off, so you can pretty much tell), plus you've only had a couple of past encounters with them and they haven't exactly been of the most mundane nature, so things are awkward and on top of that you've already come across as the weirdest person on the planet and even though you don't care about the impression you've made on them, you have to cooperate with them for a fair amount of time and feel that your past experiences with them might complicate the already unlikely to be successful communication._

_Okay, did you imagine it? A pretty sucky situation, no? So, anyways, my question is: what does the first person do? To, like… Err, I don't know… handle the situation? If you have any relevant advice to offer AT ALL, I'll be glad to take it, because I honestly have got nothing and I've been racking my brains for ideas, but without luck._

_By the way, how's your brother holding up?_

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_Thanks for your observations, I didn't remember asking for them, but I sure am glad you decided to share them with me (note the sarcasm). I knew you didn't have any friends, but I have to say I didn't expect you to turn to, quoting, a "jerkface", "socially retarded", "rude little prick" and "jackass" such as myself for advice. But I'm truly flattered to be bothered by your nonsense once again. It honestly warms my heart._

_The cringeworthy construction of your sentences made it fairly hard to understand what you're babbling about, but I managed to understand one thing, namely that you've been smoking something causing serious hallucinations. How ridiculous can your life get? Or is it just that you suck with descriptions?_

_Seems to me that you're excessively overthinking the whole situation, which has contributed to worsening the chaos that's obviously swirling in your head. All that first, second and third persons you refer to only perplex your utterance, so I'm going to give them names. The first person, let's call him Joe, can't possibly know what the second person, who we'll refer to as George, is all about; the two are, after all, strangers to one another; people aren't always what they seem to be, and even if they are, you can be sure that there's a lot more depth to them than that first impression. My advice – get to know them at least a little before you make any conclusions and if that is as hard as you make it out to be AND it is absolutely obligatory that you cooperate with them, then make a damn effort. You might spend a lifetime in struggles to understand someone, but you have to at least make a hell of a try of it before you give up. I can't tell you anything else regarding your problem._

_What you have been racking for ideas will remain a mystery to me, since I doubt that whatever lies inside your head is an actual brain._

_Had to drag my brother being a sufferer of my poisonous presence, didn't you? Don't worry, he's holding up as fine as a garden weed. Simply can't get rid of him. Or you._

_I'd appreciate it if our correspondence ended here, but you're too annoying not to reply, so I wouldn't bet any money on it. Well, at least you didn't shower me with profanities this time, which is a nice breath of fresh air and definitely an improvement. Good job, you might actually be headed on the road to growing out of your imbecility._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_Did I really call you all those things? Huh._

_Don't you worry, I'll always be here to "annoy you with my nonsense". I'm glad you're enjoying it._

_Well, excuse me for my poor writing skills. I am no_

_**you**, after all. (The latest chapter you posted was great, by the way. I know you have a phobia of compliments, I hope your head doesn't explode from this one.)_

_I haven't been smoking anything, thank you very much, but I do suck with descriptions. Although you managed to get the idea of it, so I'll note that as an improvement in my skills._

_The first person is a girl, how did you not get that?! Let's call her Jasmine instead. So, you're saying Jasmine doesn't know what George is all about and should get to know him better. That's good advice, but what if George doesn't want to share anything with her or get to know her in return? I'm telling you, he seems less sociable than a rock. Anyways, I really appreciate your advice. Who knew you could be helpful?_

_Don't you worry your pretty little head with the location of my brain. And let me assure you - I do have one._

_Ah, I'm glad your brother hasn't thrown himself off a bridge yet, give him a hug on my behalf. And I know that you don't want to get rid of me. I imagine I'm your only friend, so be careful not to get on my bad side._

_Calling you profanities isn't a sign of imbecility, ever heard of the saying "I call it as I see it"? I'm glad you're noticing an improvement and you're damn right I won't stop bothering you. Don't pretend you're annoyed by it, Sunshine. I know you like me._

_escaping my thoughts__  
>You're wrong.<em>

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_Wow. Three whole words. I'm flattered, Sunshine._

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_Tsk. Annoying._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_And yet, you keep replying._

_escaping my thoughts__  
>It would seem, you're not the only one with a mental dysfunction.<em>

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
>No, since I don't <em>_**have **__one. You're right though, you totally do._

_escaping my thoughts__  
>I keep replying to you, which is proof enough of a disorder. Don't tell my brother though, he'll send me to the psychiatrist's again.<em>

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
>That's where you belong, dearie.<em>

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_Hn._

_silence is my jam but i like rock too  
><em>_And what's that supposed to mean?_

_escaping my thoughts  
><em>_You're annoying. And I'm only messaging you because I'm bored out of mind._

* * *

><p>"Mr. Shinji, I suggest you put that phone away this instant unless you want detention." Mrs. Nolan called out in her monotonous voice, making Paul roll his eyes before he put his phone back in his pocket. "You too, Miss Berlitz. When I said you can entertain yourselves on your own till the end of the period, I meant <em>homework.<em>"

"I was just doing research for my History project, Ma'am." The girl's smooth voice rang out from somewhere behind him. He briefly turned around to see her holding out her phone to their teacher so that she could see what was on the screen.

Paul narrowed his eyes at her sugary smile. The girl noticed him staring and regarded him with a brief look, which was enough to give away her amusement of the whole situation. Her blue eyes were shining with mirth as she smirked at him and returned her attention back to Mrs. Nolan, who accepted her excuse and let her keep using her phone.

The boy turned back around with a scoff. Teachers were so stupid nowadays. And silly little lying girls, who look like water nymphs, shouldn't get their way this easily.

A minute later his attention was caught by the vibrating of his phone, which signaled a new notification email. He took a cautious look at Mrs. Nolan, who had resumed sitting in a stooping position behind a stack of papers on her desk and tsk-ing with disapproval as she checked them one by one. He fished his phone out and opened the message he had received.

_silence is my jam but I like rock too_  
><em>Wish Jasmine luck. She's going in for the gold.<em>

He didn't have a chance to reply with an _'I don't give a damn about Jasmine,'_ because he suddenly felt someone take the seat beside him. Paul turned to his right to stare at _the girl_ who had swiftly moved from her desk in the back as soundlessly as a cat and was currently looking at him with the most innocent and fake smile he'd ever seen.

He scowled at her and said "what," through gritted teeth. She appeared unaffected by his hostility and kept smiling widely, making his irritation grow in an instant.

"We have to work together, don't we? For the Farrell thing?"

"I remember," he spat out, letting her know just what he thought of the whole arrangement. Her smile wavered a bit and he saw her eyes flash with annoyance for a brief second, but she kept her bubbly façade in check.

He narrowed his eyes at the happy display she insisted on keeping on and wondered what it was about her obvious falseness that infuriated him so much. It was as if since their last encounter, namely the one that resulted in them being forced to work together by Farrell, she had built a wall around her, whose purpose was to conceal her true self, the essence of her entity.

_Well, to hell with that._

Paul had no intention of tearing down any figurative walls or figuring out just what was up with this weird girl, because he hated a lot of things, but liars were something he simply couldn't _stand_.

His previous encounters with her had peeked his curiosity, sure, and he could see how she could have some things she might want to keep away from the public's attention; but it wasn't any of his concern to find a reason why that may be and he was perfectly fine with leaving it at that.

"Okay then," she carried on in an unabashed matter, letting her smile falter a little to make way for a contemplative look. "How do you propose we go about this project thing? We're supposed to explore the ways in which _life is amazing._" She said it almost apathetically, as if she didn't quite believe the idea herself.

Paul stared at her for a few seconds, before she looked up at him with her big blue eyes, reminding him that the silence was his cue to answer. He didn't move his gaze away from her as he replied. "It doesn't matter to me how we do it."

She rolled her eyes and he suddenly felt the urge to do so too. What exactly did she expect him to say? "Do you happen to have any ideas?" She asked, even though it was obvious that _no, he didn't have any ideas._

Paul didn't answer and the girl raised her eyebrows. "That's a no, then?" He sent her a brief glare and watched as amusement filled her eyes. "Fine. My suggestion is to start exploring in the literal sense. Find ordinary things in the everyday life of other people which make it amazing. Write them down, turn them in and get it over with."

She smiled brilliantly and he could see certain impatience in her gaze. "How's that for a plan?"

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the edgy aura she was giving off, but caught himself before it had managed to turn into a full smirk. "I told you, whatever works. When do we start?"

"Wait by the entrance at the end of the classes." Before he could say anything in response, she soundlessly slipped back to her previous seat, effectively ending the conversation.

Mrs. Nolan stood up from her desk and scanned the classroom with her sharp gaze, before she proclaimed the class dismissed. Paul took his bag and went out in the busy hallway, passing by idiotically shouting and chattering students on his way towards his locker. As he took out the books he'd need for his next period, his thoughts involuntarily led him to _the girl,_ as he referred to her in his mind, rather than using her actual name.

She had solidified his definition of her as strange, but he knew there was more to it. That, however, was knowledge he preferred to disregard as irrelevant, because that's what she was to him after all. And the fact that he was going to be seeing a lot more of her didn't give her some brand-new significance in his life.

It really didn't. He wasn't stupid though. He knew that in order to keep it that way, he had to keep his slowly, but admittedly, growing curiosity in check, because that girl seemed to be the kind of girl that makes you wonder. And if he wasn't careful, his rarely expressed ability to do just that, _wonder_, would lead him to something complex and bothersome, just like her.

No girl, not even girls that looked like water nymphs, with their long midnight blue tresses and eyes like shiny mountain lakes, could be significant enough to merit his attention.

Still, he wondered as he made his way towards the entrance of the school building later that day, why his astute intuition was screaming at him to remember the moment he became entangled in her life, because it somehow would be important one day.

* * *

><p><em>George is a fucking idiot, <em>Dawn thought as she made her way through the crowded hallways with her phone in her hands, typing the exact same sentence to her online pen-pal.

_escaping my thoughts _honored her with a reply only half a minute later.  
><em><br>Jasmine must have had a real profound conversation with him to come to that conclusion._

The girl smirked as she paused in front of the big oak gate of the school building to type an answer.

_silence is my jam but i like rock too__  
>Jasmine tried. Jasmine failed.<em>

After pressing the send button, she took two long strides to the doors of the entrance, stepping outside and stuffing her phone in her pocket in the process. The late afternoon sun was throwing powerful beams of orange light and she had to narrow her eyes in order to see. Her gaze found the person she was looking for after a few moments of searching.

He was casually leaning on the railing next to the stairs and staring at the screen of his phone. Dawn took a deep breath as if to prepare herself, and let a smile slip onto her face as she approached him with a hop in her step. "Hey!" She greeted and fought the urge to cringe at the artificiality in her own voice.

Paul looked up at her with raised eyebrows and she suppressed the urge to shiver under his gaze. She felt as though his intense obsidian eyes could see right through her and the façade she had been constructing around herself. The thought unnerved her, but she tried not to let it show and smiled even more widely instead.

He rolled his eyes as he straightened up from his leaning position, confirming Dawn's suspicions that he didn't believe the picture perfect she was trying to keep up. She exhaled and forced some of her nervousness away.

Paul spared her a bored look as he spoke up, "What now?"

"Well, if you don't have anything to do, I was thinking we could do some exploring now." She searched his face for a reaction, but all she was met with was a blank stare.

"Alright. Exploring what?" He started going down the stairs and Dawn hurried to follow.

"I dunno… we could go in the park and observe the way people act or something of the sort." The look he threw her way screamed of incredulity. She smiled sheepishly, willing away the blush of embarrassment which threatened to bloom on her face.

He continued staring at her weirdly and just as she got annoyed to the point where she was ready to chew out a wrathful rant in defense of her idea, he smirked unexpectedly and said a simple "alright", before continuing on his way down the stairs once again. Dawn opened and closed her mouth in confusion, before puffing out a cheek in indignation, coming to the conclusion that he just took a guilty pleasure in riling her up.

_Don't let him get to you_, _Dawn. Just breathe._

"So, we're watching people in the park?" Dawn gritted her teeth as she heard the unmistakable derision in his voice.

"Yes," she snapped back sharply.

"No need to get touchy, I was simply double-checking."

_Jerk. _Dawn exhaled in frustration and tried to focus her attention on something else. She saw a puddle a few feet ahead and made sure to step in it with extra force as they passed it by. She giggled at the splash she created and hopped on to another puddle just up ahead.

It was surprisingly easy to ignore the cranky vibes Paul was emitting when you were a childish idiot, the girl mused as she jumped in a particularly deep puddle and caused sprays to fly out and soak her companion.

"Cut it out." She started walking backwards so that she could face the human embodiment of the rainy cloud, which was insistent on crapping on her parade.

"You're a real buzzkill, you know that?"

"And you're annoying." Paul scowled at her as he walked forwards with slightly slouched shoulders.

Dawn rolled her eyes. Apparently, everyone communicating with her agreed on that aspect. Stupid Paul. Stupid pen-pal. "Tell me something I haven't been told yet, why don't you?"

Still walking in a poor imitation of Michael Jackson's trademark dance move, she started fumbling in her backpack and got out her phone and some big-ass headphones in a screaming yellow color. She felt Paul's quizzical gaze on her, but ignored it as she plugged them in and selected a song from her library, immediately beginning to move her head and feet to the beat.

"_All I wanna say is that. They don't really care about us." _Dawn was very aware of how off-key her singing was, but she's be damned if she cared, so she just closed her eyes and smiled goofily as she resumed her walking, this time in the normal direction.

She couldn't really hear anything from the loud music of her headphones, but she could imagine Paul saying something sarcastic or stating the degree to which she irritated him or something of the sort. She couldn't care less about any of that, but after two songs her curiosity got the better of her and she turned around, moving one headphone upwards. To her astonishment, Paul was scribbling something in a notebook as he walked with a weirdly suiting contemplative look on his face.

"What'cha doing?" She asked, unable to stifle her curiosity. He looked up and she saw his eyes fill with irritation at the interruption.

Dawn imagined he'd snap back with something along the lines of '_how's it any of your business?' _or not reply at all, but she was surprised when he straightforwardly regarded her with an answer. "Working on my essay."

Her jaw dropped and she stopped dead in her tracks. "You're _what_?" She asked incredulously, but Paul just rolled his eyes and passed her by offhandedly. "I… you… what… _how_?!"

"You're being loud. And annoying." The boy tsk-ed as he carried on walking, threatening to step out of Dawn's hearing range soon. She rallied and hurried to fall back in step with him.

"And you're not answering my question! How could you possibly be working on the essay already? What would you even write about?"

Paul rolled his eyes _yet again_ and Dawn had to bite her tongue to restrain herself from telling him to cut it off. He turned his head sideways and bore his intense gaze into her eyes, making her wonder for a second how someone could have irises _that_ dark. "The aim of this whole road trip is to explore reasons which make different people's lives amazing, isn't it? Well, that's what I'm doing. And I'm writing them down so that I don't forget them. Does that answer your question?"

Dawn furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "But we haven't even reached the park yet or observed any specific people."

He didn't move his intense gaze from her. "I am allowed to make observations outside the things you order. Right?"

"Of course, but… I mean, _what_ observations did you manage to make from this big old road of dust? No offence to the dust or anything, but it's… well, _not_ the most interesting or inspirational thing in the world."

Paul didn't answer and focused his eyes straight ahead once again, while putting his notebook back in his bag. She followed it with her eyes until it was out of her view and frowned. "Aren't you going to tell me what you wrote down? I have an essay to write too, you know."

He blatantly ignored her and put his own headphones in his ears, effectively preventing the conversation from progressing any further.

"Fine, _be_ inspired by dust."_ What a drama queen._

Dawn caught herself taking up Paul's trademark eye-roll. She resumed listening to the music coming from her monstrous headphones and tried walking normally, but ended up failing and giving in to the beat once again as she took ridiculous steps forward, jumping and spinning insanely.

Maintaining a normal front had never been a strong side of hers, anyways. The idiot in her just took over sometimes and she couldn't care less about Paul's opinion on it; as far as her concern went, he was stuck with her for a good whole term of school, so he'd have to just find a way to deal with it.

What other people thought of her wasn't any of her business, anyway.

* * *

><p>People were annoying, Paul concluded as his aimless stroll was approaching its end, slowly and agonizingly. They were annoying with their screaming little kids, who reached the sky on their swings not having a care in the world, with their dogs, which barked loudly and shitted wherever the hell they pleased, with their perfect little lives, which remained pure of the world's horrors. He had no way of knowing what all the other people he shared this planet with had endured and he knew he shouldn't be judging any stranger, who wore a smile on his face, because that wasn't how he was brought up.<p>

But a lot of things had happened while aforementioned bringing up took place, so he would judge whoever the hell he wanted. He was a hypocrite, he knew, but people were still annoying.

"Can you believe how many colors there are in the sky right now?"

And ironically, there he was, stuck with the most annoying person of them all.

She still had Reggie to beat though.

Deciding to humor her, he looked up and took in the spectacular view before him. The sky was beautiful in that moment, that much he couldn't deny, and contrary to popular belief, he _was, _in fact, able to appreciate beauty when he saw it.

_The girl _sighed from beside him with something he identified as contentment. Close to it, anyways. It was weird for him to see someone express such a positive emotion while being around him, but _that girl_ was an exception when it came to most things, it seemed.

Someone who had shown so many different sides to them in the span of just a day deserved to be labeled as an exception as far as he was concerned. That much she had earned from him.

He briefly wondered what else she would come to be in his eyes during their partnership.

She had started out with fake smiles and false cheeriness, but some genuine parts of her entity had randomly shone through as well. That didn't necessarily mean she had dropped her guard around him and it was plain to see that there was a long way to go to reach that point, if _ever_. He couldn't say he minded. They weren't friends, he was just as distant, if not more so, and there wasn't anything special about the fragile and purely superficial connection they had been forced into.

And still, as they walked in peaceful silence across one of the quieter streets of the city, whose skyline was illuminated by the setting sun, he wondered where this whole thing was going and if at the end of the project the girl with the midnight blue hair, which was an equally ridiculous color as his own, would remain as much of an enigma.

"Okay then," the fairy girl spoke up and Paul turned around, realizing she had stopped walking. "This is where I live. Thanks for walking me home."

He was about to say that he didn't intend on walking her home at all, since he didn't even know which direction she lived in. The girl smiled before he could tell her that and the falseness of her smile suddenly sent him into alert mode.

"Have a nice evening, Paul," she said, the smile, which didn't reach her eyes, still in place, as if jammed onto her face with a hammer. She started walking across the driveway towards one of the neatly lined up gray houses on the street, while Paul followed her with his narrowed eyes.

Upon his first look at the plain gray house, the thought which immediately flooded his mind was that it looked so unlike the proper home for a girl with such horrendously yellow headphones and a fascination for puddles. Somehow though, he didn't doubt that that _was_ indeed her house.

What he was sure of, however, was that something felt off. And his gut feeling usually never failed him.

He didn't know if it had been her obviously fake smile, or her posture and way of walking, which seemed to be too jolly for someone who was returning home to a house as grim-looking as that one. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong.

"You don't plan on spending the night at school again, do you?" He suddenly called to her and watched her back stiffen as she froze a few steps from her front door. She turned around to look at him with false innocence and he wondered how a liar like her could be that easy to read.

"Of course not. Don't worry about me, Paul." She smiled at him again and waved goodbye somewhat expectantly, this time in no hurry to enter the house as she apparently waited for him to walk away.

He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. It was so obvious to him that she was lying, but he knew how stubborn she could get, so he opted for a different technique to ensure she didn't spend the night at the school's storage room.

The boy cleared his throat and spoke up nonchalantly, "Do you happen to have anything to eat in there? I'm _starving_."

Damn, he sounded ridiculous. No wonder she looked at him as if he had grown a second head. He coughed lightly as he tried to not let his embarrassment show, "Well?"

She looked confused for a moment, before she smiled again and motioned for him to follow her. "Yeah. Sure, come inside. I can make you a sandwich or something."

"Thanks," he breathed out as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked behind her, taking note of the uneasiness in her stance. He wasn't sure what his plan of action was. To wait until one of her parents came home so that she wouldn't be able to sneak out afterwards? Stand guard in front of her house like a watchdog?

He mentally sighed. The predicaments he found himself into recently were getting more and more ridiculous, not to mention bothersome. At the back of his mind, he noted how all of those situations somehow revolved around the girl and once again reminded himself how annoying and troublesome she was.

He noticed her hands shaking as she unlocked the door and wondered if she would have already gotten away from her house if it wasn't for his supposedly empty stomach. As they entered, he narrowed his eyes at his surroundings. The small hallway, which led to the staircase, was dark and unadorned, except for a hanger which held a few women'с coats and a small shoe cabinet.

Paul followed Dawn as she took a turn and entered a spacious room which combined a living room and a kitchen in one. There weren't any living room essentials missing - the TV was in place, and so were the couch and coffee table pointed at it, along with two big armchairs; and yet, he felt as if though something that was supposed to be there wasn't. He couldn't determine exactly what it was, until his eyes fell on the shelf above the fireplace, which was void of any pictures or cheesy souvenirs that usually gathered dust in normal family houses.

Dawn was staring at him, he noted, as he hurried to move his eyes away from the incriminating shelf, which told him more about the girl than any of her fake smiles. She looked away as well and went over to the fridge behind the kitchen counter in the other half of the room.

"Okay, there's ham, cucumbers, tomatoes, tuna and butter. Not really much of a choice, but still. What would you like your sandwich with?"

Considering he wasn't hungry at all, he opted for the lightest sandwich possible, only cucumbers and butter. Dawn raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't comment on his choice as she quickly prepared what he had requested.

"There," she handed it to him after putting some wrapping paper around it like an expert sandwich saleswoman. "Would you like some napkins for the way?"

He shook his head no, not missing the way she was parenthetically urging him out of the house. As they went back out in the hallway, his sharp ears picked up on a sound from outside, which sounded like a car being abruptly pulled up in the driveway and he mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done on keeping the girl away from the school's storage room for the night.

Dawn seemed to have heard the noise as well, but her reaction was of an entirely different nature from his. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she murmured to herself, "It's way too early for her to be-" Her eyes suddenly went wide and before Paul could understand what was happening, she had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him further down the corridor towards what seemed to be a back door.

She hastily opened it for him and practically pushed him outside, while he was wondering what the hell was going on. "Go!" She said demandingly and he recognized the urgency in her voice.

"_J'hanna! Johanna, where are you_?" Something clicked together in Paul's brain as he heard a man's slurred words echo from the front door.

He didn't have time to react though as Dawn hastily slammed the door after him and locked it in one swift move. The situation finally caught up to him as he finally comprehended what was going on, but it was too late to do anything from his position.

He banged his fist against the back door and shouted, "Let me in, Dawn!" but it was no use.

There wasn't a response from the other side and all he could do was stare ahead, stupefied by the knowledge of what his efforts to keep the girl from sneaking off had just cost her.

* * *

><p><em>Essay notes:<em>

_Her smiles are false, but jumping in puddles seems to be as genuine a joy as it is an oddity._

_She has her guard up, but she still can't help giving in to the beat of her favorite music and there is nothing fake about the ludicrous way in which she moves her feet and head, absolutely uncaring about the opinion of a stranger._

_She comes across as someone familiar with darkness and the concept doesn't seem to scare her._

_But her ridiculous hair and horrifyingly yellow headphones only bring more color into the world._

_And she sees it for what it is, aware of and acquainted with its bad sides, but not afraid to revel in its good ones.  
><em>


End file.
